


Twenty-Two

by armyofskanks



Series: five years without rain [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Birthday, Drinking, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Mild Language, Mild suggestive content, Post-Canon, Slice of Life, The Banter You Expect, The Fluff You Deserve, This is Quite Soft, Travel, meandering plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-04
Updated: 2018-05-04
Packaged: 2019-05-02 02:58:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14535195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/armyofskanks/pseuds/armyofskanks
Summary: There are two types of gifts: the ones you want and the ones you need. On his 22nd birthday, Shirabu Kenjirou gets both.





	Twenty-Two

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Birthday, Shirabu! I didn't think I'd be writing again so soon, but I had to do something for this special day. As a heads up, this fic plays off the tradition of birthday punches/birthday pinches. No one actually gets hurt in any way, it's all in good fun! 
> 
> Thank you to [Moons](https://moonshoney.tumblr.com/) for lovingly reading through this fic and also listening to me talk/whine/scream about semishira. Just a quick plug for this gem: she's been posting a lot of amazing art lately, I highly recommend checking it out. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this soft little number!

"This is your last chance to bail," Semi says. His eyes are fixed on the road, but Shirabu knows that he'd be giving him a scrutinizing look if he could. "One call and I could have the whole team rounded up. We could all be partying together by tonight."

"The whole team," he asks skeptically. They both know it's an impossibility, given that many of his teammates have scattered all across the country, some, across the world. He decides to play along anyway. "Is that so, Eita?"

"Sure shit. This is your day. You get whatever you cold, little heart desires."

Two weeks ago, Semi asked him how he wanted to celebrate his birthday, and he was stumped.

Growing up, his parents never made a fuss about his birthday, at most, they took him out to dinner and gave him small, practical gifts. It wasn't because they didn't care, it just wasn't seen as a big deal. As he got older, he had more friends to celebrate with and, in high school, a team. Regrettably, having a May birthday meant the holiday fell during examination week; no one _actually_ had time to invest in it. If he was lucky, he got a cake and a card. More often than not, he got a belated "happy birthday" and a half-assed apology. In college, Yahaba, his roommate and best friend, tried his damnedest to take things more seriously but, by that point, his birthday had fizzled into irrelevance.

It was just another day in another year.

So, when Semi offered him the reins, it took some consideration. How do you answer a question that you've never been asked?

After much deliberation, there was only one thing that sounded enticing—a small break from reality. With finals week approaching quickly, he figured it would be nice to get away from things, even if just for a day or two. In theory, he would have much favored a trip alone, but even he knows it's hardly fair to ask your significant other to pay for a vacation they're not invited on.

Now he's in a car headed for god-knows-where. The one hint Semi's given him is that "it's a surprise." Which isn't much of a hint at all. All he knows for sure is that they've been driving for over two hours on what feels like the world's most dangerous road.

Or, maybe it's just Semi's shitty driving.

On cue, the car lurches through a hairpin turn, the hundredth one so far, and he's smacked against the door. " _Watch it_ ," he hisses. "There's precious cargo in here."

It's strange how unsteady of a driver Semi is, considering how easily he gets carsick. Whenever they bussed to away games, he made a big deal of sitting near a window and spent most of the ride seeking fresh air or complaining. Apparently, he's peachy keen when he's in the driver's seat. On the other hand, while Shirabu has a stomach and nerves of steel, that doesn't mean he appreciates being batted around like a pinball.

"Oh, and what is that," Semi taunts, he turns his head ever so slightly to ensure Shirabu can see that he's sticking out his tongue.

He pouts but doesn't take the bait. It's simple banter, quite typical for them, but there's no reason to start arguing now. In all honesty, he's nervous to press too hard. This is Semi and his first trip together and, while they've spent countless nights at each other's apartments, there's a difference between that and what they're about to do now.

There's a sense of commitment and weight that comes from traveling. When he's at Semi's, he can just…leave, if things ever get to be too much. If they poke and prod too hard, they both have somewhere they can retreat until they cool down.

Here, it seems that there's at least a two-hour (and counting) separation between them and reality. If they want to duke it out, there's nowhere to hide in the aftermath, especially if they're staying in a hotel room. Plus, he doesn't even want to imagine how awkward _that_ car ride home would be.

Breathing deeply, he does his best to banish these doubts from his mind. These are "old Shirabu" concerns, the kind that sabotaged every relationship he tried to have, eventually stopping him from forming relationships at all. He knows this way of thinking is toxic; it's hard to break a habit—and even harder to be vulnerable.

But he's trying, _really fucking trying_ , and so far things are going well.

The car jerks again, yanking him from his thoughts. This time, instead of another harrowing turn, they're pulling onto a gravel road, which opens into a clearing. Semi parks the car in a small lot at the side of the road, and Shirabu is dismayed to see other cars, signaling that wherever they are, they won't truly be alone.

"We'll have to walk from here. But it isn't far," Semi says. "I can carry your bag if you want."

Shirabu has made a lot of concessions in this relationship. This is one area he won't budge.

"Thanks, but I can carry it myself."

After they unload the trunk, they start their walk to the mystery destination. The path leads through a dense, lush forest. It's cooler in the shade of the trees, with the only sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting everything in erratic patterns of light and shadow. They're surrounded by the heavy scent of earth and pine, and he breathes deeply, savoring the crispness of the air.

The path is pleasant, but what's at the end of it is even better. A break in the trees reveals a crystal-clear lake. It's huge, so huge that he can't see where it ends. There are some boats out on the water, as well as a few kayakers. His mind conjures images of him sunning himself on the shore, cooled by the light breeze in the air. It's a delicious idea, and he feels himself prickling with excitement at the possibilities.

There's just one pressing question left on his mind.

"So, Eita. Where are we staying?"

✧✧✧

"You hate it," Semi says. They haven't even had a chance to put down their bags, and there's already a fight on the horizon.

Shirabu doesn't have an immediate answer. He's a master at masking many different kinds of emotions, but distaste isn't one of them. He's always been all too obliging in that regard.

"No, I don't," he corrects, but he's positive his face tells a different story. "It's just not what I was expecting. I'm surprised."

They're staying in a rustic cabin, with wood accents, retro appliances, and plaid flannel _everywhere_. It's cozy; he'll concede that, but very kitsch—a caricature of the stereotypical "cabin in the woods" in books and movies. Either way, it's certainly not in Shirabu's taste, far from it, in fact. His aesthetic is much subtler, never one to be moved by flashiness. To him, the cabin feels forced in its design, like someone tried to create an experience, rather than a comfortable living space. He scowls at mounted deer head, which he sincerely hopes is only for show.

At least the lake is pretty.

"You don't have to lie to spare my feelings," Semi says, flopping onto the faded leather couch. There's dejection in his tone, which makes guilt swirl in his stomach. Shirabu needs to act fast to save the situation.

"I'm not lying," he says, in a voice he hopes conveys some sincerity. He knows it doesn't, but he's stalling for time until he can think of a way to put this conversation on a more positive track. "And what does it matter, anyway. It's nice to try new things."

"Kenjirou, you hate trying new things," Semi says flatly.

 _Excellent_ , Shirabu thinks. It's precisely the response he was hoping for. He sets down his bag and crosses the room so that he's standing next to the couch. He sits on the sliver of unoccupied space and runs a hand over Semi's hair. It's gotten longer in the time they've been seeing each other, just shy of being able to be pulled back in a ponytail. He leans in to whisper in his ear, to make sure he his message is clearly received.

"I tried you, didn't I?"

Semi smiles. There's not a damn thing he can say to that.

✧✧✧

It's ten at night, and they're outside, laying side-by-side on a thick blanket. It's nearly pitch black, with the only illumination coming from the blanket of stars above and the crescent moon hanging low over the trees. And, of course, the lantern they brought. Without it, they probably would have broken some bones walking down to the dock.

It's the peace he was seeking, Shirabu can't deny that. The air is fresher here than in the city, and every breath makes him feel like he's adding a month to his life. He's happy to see Semi looking relaxed, too. With graduation a week away, he suspects that he needs this trip just as much as him. Though he's graduating with high marks and honors, the next step in his journey is nebulous. Shirabu knows that Semi's been doing his best to conceal his stress, but the guy wears his emotions on his sleeve. Maybe, when they get home, he'll try and talk to him. One look at Semi's worriless face tells him it would be more prudent to leave real-world problems back where they belong, rather than potentially disturb their reprieve.

Neither has said anything since they settled into the spot, a sign of the level of comfort they have with each other. He's always been skeptical of couples who continuously demand each other's attention, and though he's still far from a relationship expert, he suspects that for two people to be happy, they should have a strong sense of self first. Of course, that doesn't mean that he's always contented just existing in Semi's company. Sometimes, he does want more.

Like right now.

He slides next to Semi and snuggles into the side of his neck. On reflex, he tilts his head to allow him more access, knowing that Shirabu is searching for his pulse point. It's been his favorite spot since the first night they got together. Once he finds it, he rubs his nose against it to signify his discovery. Something about the soft thrum of his heartbeat is soothing, and he can feel his breathing start to slow.

"Hey, don't fall asleep out here," Semi says, nudging at his shoulder gently. He is aware of how this routine ends; he's carried Shirabu to bed one too many times. "If you're tired, let's go inside."

While Shirabu would be perfectly fine with going to sleep now—it's been a long day of travel— it would be unfair to waste their vacation with an early bedtime. He would also never hear the end of it from Semi.

_Kenjirou, in bed by ten on the eve of his birthday, how lame!_

"No, I'm fine." He struggles to sit in a more upright position. It's immediately apparent why they were lying down in the first place. The rough wood of the dock digs uncomfortably into his thighs. "I think I was getting too warm."

"Mmm, it is kind of warm out here. I'm thinking of going for a swim."

He blinks, wondering if he heard Semi correctly. Even with his adventurous streak, this seems reckless. "A swim—are you nuts? That would be so dangerous right now."

But it's too late. Semi has already stripped off his clothes, leaving only his boxers on. It's wild that he can't seem to make a proper judgment call on the appropriateness of a night swim, but he still protects his modesty. Un-fucking-believable. And very authentically Semi.

"It won't be dangerous if you light the way. Here, come to the edge of the dock and shine the lantern," he says.

Shirabu sighs loudly to convey his disagreement, but he knows he can't stop him from getting in, so he might as well participate in the harm reduction. He drags the blanket to the edge of the dock and flops onto his stomach.

"Is this good," he asks, holding the lantern out over the edge.

Semi makes a noise of consideration, then, without warning, jumps into the lake. He disappears underwater for a few tense seconds, before bursting back up.

"Ah, this feels amazing! You should come in, too."

He eyes the inky black water. Ugh. Who knows what's lurking underneath the surface. "I'll pass."

"What? Afraid the stick up your ass will weigh you down," Semi taunts.

Shirabu's mouth drops open, and he's so overwhelmed with the number of snarky responses that come to mind that the sole thing he can manage is a loud " _piss off_!" Unfortunately, he's too slow on the draw, before he can get a word out, Semi's dipped back under the protection (and sound barrier) of the water.

"What's that? I didn't hear you," he asks, popping up again a few feet to the left.

Annoyed, he scoots to flash the light in the new area. He wishes Semi would stop moving around; the only thing preventing Shirabu from leaving him in the dark is the fact that he doesn't want to have to drive home alone if he drowns. The road up was tumultuous, and Shirabu hates driving. He'd probably end up going off a cliff. "Stop that! You're fucking ridiculous."

"Fine, fine." Semi swims up to the dock and pushes himself up, so he's halfway out of the water. In the low light, he looks like a mermaid emerging from the depths. "Kenjirou, c'mere."

He surveys Semi suspiciously. "Are you going to pull me in?"

"No!" Semi sits up from where he's resting on his arms. "I wouldn't do that to you. I just wanted a kiss."

Shirabu sighs and rolls his eyes. If he obliges, he's going to get a least a little wet. It's already starting to feel much colder than when they first came outside. "You're such a useless sap."

"And you're such an arrogant brat, but we make it work," Semi says with a wry smile.

Somehow, that does it for him, because he finds himself cupping a hand around Semi's damp face. He leans into the touch, pressing his lips against Shirabu's palm. It's an intimate gesture, one that even after six months of dating, still manages to make waves in Shirabu’s heart. At first, he found himself resisting the feelings this kind of contact elicited. Now, he's finally starting to give in and savor them.

Shirabu lowers his face for a brief, chaste kiss, earning a satisfied hum from Semi. They sit, foreheads pressed together, listening to the soft sounds of the waves lapping at the side of the dock. It's romantic, a little too romantic, which is why Shirabu feels compelled to shift his hands to Semi's shoulders and shove him back into the water.

Good relationships are all about give-and-take.

To his dismay, there's no complaints or retaliation. Semi got what he wanted, and he's back to leisurely paddling around. After a few minutes, he seems to tire out and flips onto his back to float on the dark surface of the lake.

Shirabu watches him laying in the water, looking at peace with everything. Now that Semi's stopped moving, he can relax, too. He sets his head on the back of his hands and allows himself to dissolve into the stillness of the moment. They're in their own worlds for a few minutes, until Shirabu starts to feel nervous that Semi might fall asleep, and decides to break the contemplative silence.

"Hey, Eita, what are you thinking about."

To his relief, he doesn't miss a beat.

"It's nice here. I'm glad this is what you wanted."

Shirabu doesn't correct him on the fact that, _no, this isn't exactly what he wanted_ , because that's not what Semi is really saying. He's happy to be here with him, to have this chance to be together outside of the stress of their normal lives—in some ways, the actual destination is of no importance.

"I'm glad to be here with you, too."

✧✧✧

"Happy birthday, Kenjirou." A soft voice says.

Shirabu’s eyes flutter open, but he's so warm and comfortable, he can't seem to rouse himself completely. He shifts to nestle deeper into the flannel blanket, then closes his eyes again.

"Happy birthday, little brat." The voice is more forceful and, this time, there's the unmistakable feel of a light slap to his cheek.

That gets him up right away. "What the fuck, Eita. Could you not see I was sleeping?"

"Doesn't matter," Semi replies playfully. "And there's twenty-one more where that came from."

His hand raises again, and Shirabu seizes it, quick as lightning, and pins it to the bed. He knows Semi could easily wrestle out of his grip, but he doesn't resist, instead, allowing him to have a semblance of control.

"Slap me again, and you won't live to see graduation," he growls. His eyes narrow into a glare, to show he means business, then, he releases his wrists. Once freed, Semi pulls him against his chest, undaunted by the previous threat. Even if he's still feeling grumbly, his frustration melts instantly at the contact and, before he can stop himself, he finds himself nuzzling lightly against Semi's soft skin.

"You gotta get twenty-two of _something_ , Kenji," he mumbles into his hair. "So pick a thing you want a lot of."

Shirabu looks up at him, with a face he hopes conveys his judgment. Though he would never describe Semi as boring or conventional, he's always harbored a soft spot for tradition. Shirabu doesn't have to understand _why_ Semi's so fixated on this silly birthday game to know that it makes him happy.

He likes making Semi happy, so he'll (grudgingly) play along.

"Oh? I can ask for anything?"

"Sure. For example, I could give you twenty-two kisses." He illustrates his point by planting a number of pecks in succession on the top of Shirabu's head. The feeling flusters him, and he squirms in Semi's grip.

"Or, maybe you'd prefer twenty-two spanks," he offers and snakes a hand down to grab a handful of his ass. Shirabu gasps and arches against his side, which, of course, sends things a bit off track. They're kissing, not even trying to be chaste, not even trying to go slow, not even caring that if they keep going—and they _will_ keep going—Shirabu will get so loud that they'll scandalize the family staying in the cabin next door.

"I'll think about it." He's impressed with how coherent he manages to sound, even between pants. At some point, they've flipped positions so that he's looking down at Semi from where he's straddling his lap.

Semi removes his hands from Shirabu's ass and crosses his arms behind his head. "You have until the end of your birthday to decide. If you don't, I reserve the right to administer the slaps," he says with a coy smile.

Usually, he'd know better than to take an offer made in the heat of passion. But, right now, he doesn't have his priorities straight.

"Deal." And he dives right back in.

✧✧✧

"I'm sore," Shirabu whines. He reaches out his hands so that Semi can pull him up the rocky slope they're trying to scramble. He complies and hoists him up to a ledge where they can both stop to catch their breath. Semi seems particularly winded, which is entirely fair given that he's been hiking for two. With the amount of demanding and complaining Shirabu’s been doing, it's a wonder his ever-so-patient companion hasn't snapped on him yet. He unquestionably deserves it at this point.

"Can't say I didn't warn you," Semi says nonchalantly, wiping the sweat from his brow. "I told you not to try and hold that position."

"Yeah, yeah." Shirabu pauses to take a long drink of water. He knows he should be more conservative—they foolishly only brought one bottle to share. "You _loved_ it."

Semi smirks and raises an eyebrow. "Never said I didn't." He stands, then, extends a hand to him. "I'll rub your back later. Right now, we've gotta keep moving."

Shirabu groans but accepts the help up. He can already tell he's going to be even more sore tomorrow, and he'll need a whole hell of a lot more than a backrub to recover.

After less than 100 feet of walking, he can feel another fit of complaints bubbling up but represses it in the interests of humoring Semi. He's been prattling on all morning about how wonderful the top of whatever they're climbing will be, and he doesn't want to ruin that excitement with his petulance. Besides, they've been walking uphill for over an hour. How much further could it be?

Turns out, a lot further. It's another half-hour of steep slopes and grueling switchbacks until Semi finally says, "Oh! Here's the sign for the vista, it's just under a mile away."

At the summit, Shirabu doesn't even get to enjoy the view. He has to spend almost ten minutes doubled over and panting before he can even think about his surroundings. The hike was twenty-times worse than any of the athletic conditioning he's done so far, and he can barely keep up with that. Mercifully, Semi gets the hint to give him some space until he's caught his breath; he's also wise enough to save whatever snarky comments he has about his stamina until later.

When his wits return to him, he joins Semi where he's sitting on the edge of the overlook and is treated to the first taste of the view. Down below, he can see the entire circumference of the lake and the minuscule dot of their cabin on the shore. Out ahead is a panorama of jagged granite peaks, permanently dusted in ice and snow.

It's dizzying, perhaps from his hyperventilating or, more likely, because he didn't realize they're so damn high up. Shirabu's never been afraid of heights, but he's hit with a wave of vertigo and instinctively backs away from the edge, grasping for Semi's hand with urgency. So much for those nerves of steel.

"Woah there," Semi says, voice laced with concern. He wraps an arm around him, not caring that he's dripping with sweat. "It's ok. You're safe."

He lets Semi hold him, lets him back them up, so they're sitting further from that ledge, lets him push his bangs out of his face with the headband he carries—just in case one of them needs it. It's a level of doting that he wouldn't have previously allowed but is grateful for now. His heart flutters, and it's not just from the adrenaline of the scare.

"Have some water," Semi offers. He holds out the bottle for him to take.

"I thought we only have one, we should save it," he replies, voice still a bit wobbly.

"You know I wouldn't be dumb enough to only bring one. Now that I'm with you, I have to bring two of everything, because I know you're going to mooch." Semi winks and produces another bottle out of his backpack.

Shirabu huffs, snatches it from his hands, and takes a few irritated sips. He can't criticize Semi's foresight, but he's not a mooch. He's just taking advantage of the perks of being in a relationship, _what's mine is yours_ and what not.

They rest in silence for a few minutes, enjoying the view (from a safe distance) and the warmth of the afternoon sun. Semi is dozing on his shoulder, as he tends to, and Shirabu allows it, despite the dampness he can feel pooling on his shirt.

"Thanks for always taking care of me," he murmurs. If Semi has actually nodded off, he doesn't want to wake him. They can afford to take a short break before heading back down.

Semi lifts his head and turns to look at him. "You don't have to thank me for that." He clasps Shirabu's hand and squeezes. "I just want to make you happy."

"I know." His life hasn't magically become perfect since he started sharing it with Semi, but some of his fondest memories have been in the past six months. That's got to count for something, right? "And you do," he adds hastily.

Semi smiles but doesn't respond, and Shirabu takes the opportunity to start enjoying his summit snack. He's about a halfway through his apple when it occurs to him that he's being watched. It's not out of the ordinary, to look up and find Semi staring at him. Usually, it makes him feel a touch of warmth to know that there's someone out there who can derive pleasure just from looking at his face. But something about Semi's gaze makes his heart start to race, and his palms begin to sweat. It's a look he's never seen before, or maybe he had and tried to put it out of his mind, not ready to deal with the implications. Slowly, he lowers his now finished apple.

"If you stare at me any longer, I'll have to start charging you," he teases. He hopes the banter will derail whatever strange thing is about to happen. The air around them is crackling with energy.

It doesn't.

"Kenjirou, I want to tell you something."

That _really_ gets his heart pounding, and he's sure he looks wide-eyed and wild. His mouth is very, very dry, and he swallows thickly. He knows he needs to respond, but it takes what feels like an eternity to form a sentence.

"What is it," he says, voice deceptively calm.

Semi takes a deep breath. "I—" he pauses, staring off into the distance like he's trying to find the right words. "Thank you for giving me a chance. I just wanted to tell you how lucky I feel to be with you."

Oh.

Something inside him withers, like a flower in the dark. He's doesn't know what he was expecting, or if he was expecting anything at all, but there's a part of him that feels let down nonetheless.

"And it's amazing to see how far we've come. Five years ago, you were just the asshole first-year who never listened to me. Now? Well, I guess you're still an asshole, but you're also my best friend and my partner-in-crime, and I really, really fucking appreciate you."

Shirabu bites his lower lip, mostly to hide the fact that it's trembling. Even without those three little words, the sentiment still tugs at his heartstrings. No one, outside of his parents (and Yahaba when he's drunk) has said such genuinely kind things to him.

"Thank you, Eita. You're not so bad yourself."

Semi kisses his cheek and returns to his spot on Shirabu's shoulder for some rest. Long-winded professions of adoration take a toll on everyone, even useless saps like Semi. For now, he's happy to be out of his watchful eye because he's sure the glum face he's making would only serve to distress him.

He should feel satisfied by his words: Semi likes him, appreciates him, treasures him, and that should be enough. But Shirabu's always been one to see the empty part of the glass, to dwell in the space of disappointment, rather than gratitude. So, right now, he finds himself focusing on what Semi _didn't_ say, rather than what he did. He knows he's acting unfair, seeking something that he's not even confident he can offer in return.

Good relationships are about give-and-take, and he has a nasty habit of taking more than he can give.

✧✧✧

"Are you ok? You've barely touched your food," Semi asks. His expression is neutral and open, but it's clear he knows something is wrong. One of the unpleasant side effects of being in a relationship is that Semi has learned to read him like an open book, despite his best attempts to conceal his emotions.

The question itself is a courtesy, meant to open the door for him to talk, if he's willing, of course.

He isn't. Shirabu is not ready to confess that the reason he's been so sulky is that Semi didn't say those three pesky little words to him up on the summit. There's just no way in hell he can _openly_ admit that. It's far too embarrassing and requires a level of vulnerability he hasn't tapped into yet—and wasn't planning to anytime soon.

Plus, he's well aware that he has no real right to be upset: he is not owed love, he can't force Semi to love him, and, quite frankly, he wouldn't be able to say it back anyway. It's a moot point.

As such, he made the executive decision to be fine.

When he thought about it all the way down the mountain, he decided to be fine.

When he thought about it in the bath, as Semi gingerly washed his hair, he decided to be fine.

When he thought about it in the kitchen, while they cooked his birthday dinner, he decided to be fine.

And, now, when Semi asks him point blank if something is wrong, he's already prepared his answer, because he's been practicing all afternoon.

"I'm fine." He forces a smile and spears a roasted carrot with his fork.

Semi furrows his brow but doesn't push back. "If you say so."

✧✧✧

They're sitting on the rocky beach, close enough to the lake that they can feel the cold water lapping at their toes, but far enough away that it never goes past their ankles. It's a balmy evening, and the sun dips over the peaks in the distance, casting everything in dull orange light.

"Pass the wine," Shirabu says, holding out an open hand. "You're hogging it."

Semi moves to offer up the bottle but retracts it back before he can grab it. "You know, you better take it slow. You're not the drinker you think you are."

"Ok, for one, that was a one-time thing." He knows Semi is referring to the time he drank too much rum and ended up on his bathroom floor for _hours_. Again, that was a weird night, surely not one he'd like to repeat. "And, for two, it's my birthday, so I can do whatever I fucking want."

"Can't argue with that." Semi shrugs, knowing he's defeated, and hands over the bottle. Shirabu takes a long, unhurried gulp before placing it back in the ice bucket next to them.

The two sit in silence, listening to the ambient noise of the early evening: the low hum of the cicadas, wind rustling through the trees, and the occasional screams of children playing by the water.

It should be relaxing, sitting on the beach at sunset with Semi, but it's not. There's a rift between them that's been growing steadily since dinner. They left on this vacation to escape the stress of the real world; now, it seems like they'll be bringing some unexpected baggage home.

Unless he acts to stop it.

He should have talked when he had a natural opening. If he wants to open the conversation back up now, the ball is in his court. He hates when the ball is in his court because, true to his setter nature, his preferred strategy is to pass it on to someone else.

He sighs and watches a flock of birds fly towards the faraway peaks, their cries echoing throughout the valley. It's not fair to Semi to brood over something they could clear up with a simple conversation. They should be enjoying their last night of vacation, not sitting in tense silence. He can feel Semi's gears turning to no avail; there's nothing for him to figure out, he didn't do anything wrong.

Semi does not owe him love. Shirabu cannot force Semi to love him.

The dilemma is that no conversation is simple for when it has to do with something as delicate and sensitive as feelings. Normally, he'd require at least a couple of days to get his thoughts together, to articulate his points as succinctly and objectively as possible. Even in matters of the heart, Shirabu craves a measure of order. He's gotten emotional in front of Semi, sure; he would prefer to not make a habit of it.

A few more minutes pass without a word. Semi tosses a smooth stone into the water. It skips once before disappearing below the surface with a _plop_.

Shirabu pinches the inside of his palm. He needs to act, to take a risk. Being with Semi makes him feel safe enough to take risks.

"Hey, Kenjirou."

Surprised, he turns to look at Semi—and is taken aback. He's brilliant, almost blinding, not from the sunset (the light is quickly fading) but from the sheer energy he's radiating. There's a resoluteness in his expression that he's seen only a few times, and it's enough to make him excited.

Without his consent, his heart races, and he leans forward, moth to light, to hang on Semi's every word, even if it means facing disappointment again. But a little voice inside assures him: _this is it, go towards it_.

"Yes, Eita," he replies, voice huskier than he would have preferred.

Semi shifts, wringing his hands in his lap. He takes one deep breath, similar to the way he'd prepare himself for a pinch serve.

"I hope this won't scare you—ah fuck it.” He rubs at the back of his head, ruffling his hair in the process. “I _know_ this is going to scare you—but I'm going to say it anyway." He stops to licks his lips, and Shirabu goes into freefall.

"I love you."

There's a pause, heavy with the rush of anticipation and desire that had been building for hours. Now that it's finally happening, he feels dangerously close to short-circuiting.

"Tell me again." He needs to hear him say it once more, to confirm that this is real. There's something about being in these woods that seems to distort time and reality. For all he knows, this is just one, beautiful illusion.

Semi cocks his head then reaches across the space between them to cradle Shirabu's face in his hands. "I love you."

He grabs Semi's shirt, hands shaking, pulling him closer until they're almost nose-to-nose. He feels greedy for what he's about to do, but he can't stop himself.

He can't help what he yearns for.

"Again," he demands. This time, his voice is laced with desperation. If he's acting out, he doesn't care. There's a space inside himself, one he didn't realize he had until he heard those words. Now, it sits cavernous, wanting, and there's only one thing that can fill it.

"Kenji, what are—"

"Twenty more." Shirabu releases his grip and backs away to give him some breathing room.

Good relationships are about give-and-take and, for now, Shirabu accepts he can only take.

"Tell me, twenty more times."

Because one day, he'll give, too. He's sure of it. He'll whisper those words in the quiet moments of the morning when he's sure Semi's asleep, or in the liminal space after he closes the door to leave or hangs up the phone. He'll practice until they no longer feel clunky and foreign on his tongue, until he can convey all the affection in his cold, little heart. Then, he'll tell Semi, voice strong and clear, how much— _how fucking much_ —he means to him.

He looks into Semi's eyes, watching them light up as he registers exactly what Shirabu is asking for. For a split second, he feels bad, knowing that Semi would have _really_ enjoyed doling out those slaps. But there's no hesitation in his gaze, because this? This is one thing he's all too eager to give.

There's always been enough space in his heart for the both of them.

_"I love you._

_I love you._

_I love..."_

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you again for reading! If you enjoyed, I'd love if you left a kudo, comment, or good cosmic energy. 
> 
> Take care!


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